


The Fool

by Joe_Reaves



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Established Relationship, Infidelity, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joe_Reaves/pseuds/Joe_Reaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two strangers meet in a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a series about Gibbs' ex-wives but I got majorly contradicted by canon and didn't want to re-write the series.

She was sat at the bar nursing her third Martini when he came over. She actually had to fight the urge to look behind her to see if there was some beautiful young thing stood there who had captured his attention, because, while she was well aware that men found her attractive, he wasn't the type who would normally approach her. For starters he was nearly young enough to be her son, although she doubted he realised that, she had spent enough on cosmetic surgery over the years to ensure that she didn't look like a woman in her forties. There he was though, standing in front of her, smiling that little boy lost smile that no doubt had women falling all over themselves to get close to him whenever he used it, asking if he could join her and offering to buy her another drink.

"I'd be honoured," she said, indicating the vacant bar stool next to her. "I'm Elizabeth."

"I know," he said. "I've been watching you all evening, trying to place you, but I know who you are now."

"Excuse me?" she queried in the haughtiest voice she could summon. "I don't know who you think you are, but we've never met before."

"No we haven't, but I know who you are just the same. And I certainly know your type. There were enough rich bitches around when I grew up for me to know how to spot one when I see one," he sneered. "Let me tell you what I know about you, and you can tell me if I get it right?"

"How dare you?" she hissed. "I don't have to sit here and listen to this drivel."

"Yes you do," he snapped back, grabbing her hand in what appeared to be a friendly grip, but firmly enough that she wouldn't be able to pull away without hurting herself. "After all, we're just having a friendly chat and I know you don't want to cause a scene. The last thing any of you bitches want is to be embarrassed in public and if you try walking away, rest assured I will let everyone hear what I think of you."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because we have a mutual acquaintance and I want to make sure you know what you did to him," he said. He was doing a good job of keeping his expression blank, but she could see the disdain in his eyes and for some reason it unsettled her. She wasn't sure why, after all she didn't know this man, but she didn't like the way he was looking at her as if she was a bug he would very much like to squash.

"Now where was I?" he continued. "Oh yes, I was going to tell you what I know about you. Well you grew up with money, that much is obvious. You were probably Daddy's Little Princess at home, got everything and anything you wanted just by batting those pretty eyelashes and looking up at him out of those deceitful green eyes of yours. Then when you started to date you realised that all those Ivy League boys who ran in your social set were pretty boring when it came down to it and while they treated you well you were never their princess, not the way you were at home. After all rich daddy's girls are ten a penny really, even if they do come with pretty green eyes and striking red hair. So you went looking a little further afield and found yourself a man who wasn't just willing to treat you like a princess but actually wanted to make you his queen and you took him home to daddy. Now he wasn't the lawyer or doctor from an impeccable family that daddy had been hoping you'd bring home, but it's hard to find something to dislike about a marine – especially one so obviously in love as he was. So daddy gave you his blessing and you got married; probably with some big fairytale wedding to make you the envy of the neighbourhood. But you were marrying beneath you and you made sure he knew that every day that you were together, got to make sure he knows what an honour it is to be married to you after all. Trouble was you weren't prepared for the reality of being a military wife. You had nothing to do all day, getting a job would have been beneath you, and most of the other wives, well they just weren't your type of people, were they. Those that were, were married to up and coming officers and much to your shame they probably considered you to be beneath them, especially when you found your self a blond haired, blue-eyed distraction. That probably didn't go down well amongst the other wives, doesn't really fit with the marine code of "Semper Fi" does it? So you were even more isolated and rather than taking responsibility for your own life, you decided to blame it all on him, went running back to daddy, and hired yourself a good attorney.

"How am I doing so far?" he asked casually and smirked when she flushed and refused to meet his eyes. "Did you at least have the decency to tell him in person or did you do it by letter"

"You seem to know so much about me, why don't you tell me," she said, her temper flaring at last.

"I think you wrote him a Dear John note and mailed it to wherever his unit was stationed," her accuser said. "Less chance of a messy argument that way. You knew he wouldn't fight the divorce because his innate sense of honour wouldn't allow him to do anything to hurt a woman, even one who'd done such a bang up job of destroying him emotionally. Being the man he is, he'd be bound to take responsibility for everything and blame himself for the failure of your marriage anyway. And now we here he is, twenty years down the road and two more marriages under the bridge, still blaming himself for everything and still carrying candle for the woman he thought he married, a woman who never really existed; and here you are, sitting in a bar, allowing good-looking young men to buy you drinks while your current husband is … what? Working late? On a business trip? Screwing his secretary maybe, if I was married to a cold bitch like you I certainly would be."

He let go of her hand and drained the last of his drink, tossing a couple of twenties on the bar to pay for them.

"Have a nice evening," he sneered as he slid off the bar stool and turned to leave.

"Wait," she called. "Who the hell are you?"

"Me? I'm no one," he said sadly. "I'm the fool in love with the fool who's still in love with you."


End file.
